The Sound of Music (1965): Eitan's Take

One of my major problems with all the hubbub surrounding bland underdog films like Slumdog Millionaire is that critics (and, eventually, audiences) project onto the film an affect of feel-good triumph that isn't really there. I wasn't standing in the aisle cheering at the end of Little Miss Sunshine; I was looking down at the floor wondering if I had any popcorn left. When you compare these modern day "triumph of the human spirit" films to something like, say, The Sound of Music, it's sort of like listening to a MIDI version of Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 2 and then going the next day and seeing it performed by the London Philharmonic. The Sound of Music is the king (or is it queen?) of all feel-good movies; this is a once-in-a-millennium explosion of pure exuberance. Other films need not apply.

Although the film's first half is undoubtedly its strongest -- with its swooping crane shots, vivid and imaginative cinematography and choreography, and lump-in-your-throat-it's-so-heartbreakingly-beautiful music -- I was pleasantly surprised with how well the second half holds up, and how the dark and complicated themes of Nazi oppression were dealt with more intellectually and artfully than I had remembered. Pauline Kael once commented about how saccharine and embarrassing this film was; on the contrary, I think it's actually a very serious film about how art can defeat fascism, and how finding one's creative outlet gives the soul wings, so to speak. Julie Andrews wanted to be Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, but this is by far the better role for her. Running through lush fields, bursting into song, her red bob bouncing up and down, she is the very definition of joie de vivre, something that she could never have shown in the frumpy->angry->elegant->stilted Doolittle role.

One thing that also separates this film from the rest of the pack is the way it truly makes use of the on-location shooting to really leap off the stage. My Fair Lady is hampered only by its staginess, but Robert Wise allows his camera to charge energetically through the scenery, capturing the timeless beauty of the Alps like no one ever will again, as well as the stately Bavarian architecture of the von Trapp mansion and surrounding Salzburg. With the exception of the abbey, nothing here looks like a set--it is all so beautiful that you just want to cry, and sing, and cry some more. You try watching Christopher Plummer singing Edelweiss that first time (when he looks sort of like Johnny Cash) and not having to wipe tears from your eyes.

Maybe this film only exists to prove how much of a sucker I really am. Well, try and make me care. 10/10. Glorious. Perfect.

Props to my mom for making a themed dinner for our viewing party. She actually -- I kid you not -- prepared warm apple strudel and schnitzel with noodles. Unbelievable.